


Suddenly, She Was Alone.

by Lxzzie



Series: Shadows [1]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxzzie/pseuds/Lxzzie
Summary: bear in mind this is my first ever fanficsorry
Relationships: Willow/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Series: Shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698625
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bear in mind this is my first ever fanfic
> 
> sorry

"Good morning, mama! Good morning, papa!"

A young, petite girl, dressed plainly in a stained lavender nightgown, with messy brown hair and tired yet lively eyes, bounded down the stairs of the small, messy dwelling she called home.Her smile dimmed when she got to the living room.

Books and papers were scattered about. A plate of rotting food sat on the tearing arm of a cheap faux-leather chair that faced the window fitted with worn yellow curtains. 

Her parents were nowhere to be seen.

"Mama?" called the girl. She looked at a liquor bottle that lay on its side at her feet. It smelled of cherries and cheap alcohol.

The child looked around her cluttered abode for any sign of where her parents might have gone. She went over to the smaller window by the kitchen sink and looked for her mother's beaten-up Nash Touring. 

Nothing.

The only thing in the front she saw was a cracked glass bowl with nothing inside but a few crumbs of dried cat food. She'd have to refill that later.

She turned around to try the bedroom when she saw a note on the table with a stuffed envelope. 

> "Hey Wynn,"

read the note, rushed and half-heartedly scrawled with a pen that was clearly running out of ink. 

> " Mummy and Daddy are going away. Somewhere nice, like the Caribbean. We're leaving you the house and a bit of cash so you can, I don't know, eat or buy something, I suppose. Be grateful you're not in an orphanage. Oh, and clean up, you rat. Don't think we didn't notice the mess before we left."

She felt tears coming to her eyes, and tried to brush them off her face.

  
Sniffling, she opened the front door and stumbled to the carved white stoops leading down to the sidewalk.

Wynn sat on the third step from the top and cried.


	2. Wilderness

She woke up in a strange place.

She didn't smell any mildew.

Or wine.

That was quite strange.

Groggily, the girl sat up and attempted to assess her situation and familiarize herself with her surroundings.

There were trees everywhere; fir? Pine? Some kind of evergreen, she thought.

"Say, pal!" she heard a familiar voice behind her. She groaned.

Maxwell.

"You don't look so good! You-"

"What is this? Where did you take me? You told me there would be people here and I don't see so much as a footprint, you crook," she spat.

"Oh, don't get your feathers ruffled," purred the man. "I'm here, aren't I?"

The girl narrowed her eyes at him.

"Besides, I never said anything about people, did I? If I can recall correctly, I said "friends". So, technically, you can have all the friends you want! Birds, rabbits, catcoons, you name it. Speaking of catcoons, open your bag; your furry demon thing is in there." Maxwell delivered the last sentence with a tinge of disgust.

She gasped. "Harlem!" she quickly dug through her backpack and searched for her cat. She found nothing but a small, black cat-shaped doll.

"What did you do to her...!?" The girl felt tears coming to her eyes.

"Nothing that hurt," chuckled Maxwell.

Wynn suppressed the urge to spit in his face. "You are a horrible, disgusting-"

"Now, now, now!" Maxwell scolded. "Let's not jump to conclusions, shall we? Consider it a favor! After knowing you'd be _all alone_ , I suppose I took pity on you. How pathetic, I know. Don't worry, you'll get to see it in due time. But for now, you'd better find something to eat before night comes!"

With that, the man stepped back, lit something in his pocket, and disappeared with a puff of smoke.

"What a stupid- I can't believe- How dare he..." Wynn grumbled to herself in disdain. Frustrated, she brushed the sticks and leaves off her dark purple dress, shook the rock out of her black boot, and set off to find something that could be considered a meal.

• • •

When Wynn got to the meadow, she couldn't believe her eyes at her luck.

"Berries!" She ran over to one of the bushes dotted with small, red fruits. Eagerly, she plucked one off a branch but examined it, not quite sure if it was safe to eat or not. Eventually, her hunger got the better of her and she popped it into her mouth. It was sweet. Good. Sweet was good.

Greedily stripping the rest of the bush of its gems, Wynn looked around for more. She saw another bush just waiting to be picked, and ran over. Suddenly, she felt something catch her foot and she fell, dropping about half her berries in the process.

"No!" she cried, devastated at her loss. There were berries all over, covered in dirt now. Wynn hurriedly tried to salvage what she could when she saw what had tripped her. It was some kind of root, peeking out of the ground. "Hello," she said to the plant. "What are you?"

Pulling out the sprout, she saw it was nothing other than a carrot. "Jackpot!" she exclaimed, giddily. "Today is turning out great," she thought. "In terms of food, that is."

She remembered the second bush and went over to collect the berries that awaited her. While picking the sweet fruits, however, she felt a sudden rustle. Apprehensive, she stumbled back and watched as a creature began to emerge from the shrub.

It was a big, bad...

"Turkey?"

Wynn almost snorted.

It stared at her from behind the branches, then hopped out, gobbling. "Why, hello," she greeted the bird.

Suddenly, it went into a frenzy of ripping the berries off their stems and swallowing them, not even bothering to chew.

"Hey!" screamed Wynn. "Those are mine!" She chased the thief across the meadow, watching in horror as it devoured each berry bush, one-by-one, with terrifying speed. Soon, there were only two bushes left.

They ended up in an area that reeked of pond-water and soil, and she soon found out why; there were dozens of small ponds, everywhere . She watched in both amazement and terror as an unrealistically huge frog hopped out of a nearby tarn.

The turkey had decided to take a break near the water, when the giant frog, half its size, smacked it with its fittingly huge tongue, leaving the bird battered and bleeding. It was almost comical, in a way. Soon, nearly a dozen frogs joined in.

Wynn felt the urge to run, when, finally, the turkey succumbed to its injuries and died, leaving behind some thick, juicy turkey legs.

"Hello, dinner," Wynn grinned she snatched the drumsticks off the grassy floor and ran, as to not anger the frogs like the unfortunate bird had. Only then had it set in how dangerous the creatures here were.

Wynn thought about how those frogs came in huge numbers and were the size of small dogs, and how just a few could likely make quick work of her. She decided to stay away from them for now.

She went back over to collect the rest of the berries and carrots, then looked up to see how much of the daylight remained. She felt a bit uneasy when she realized that the sun was setting and she hadn't even found a shelter yet. In fact, she hadn't even considered where in the world she was.

As Wynn gathered sticks to attempt her best at some sort of lean-to, she munched on some berries and pondered where Maxwell might have taken her. She couldn't think of anywhere that had lightning-speed turkeys or territorial frogs the size of beagles. In fact, Wynn was starting to think that maybe she wasn't even on Earth anymore.

"That's crazy," she dismissed the idea. "How could he take me to another planet? That's stupid. I'm probably just tired."

Soon, Wynn began to long for a nice, cold pop from the corner store, a 20-minute bike ride from the little shack she lived in. _Bib-Label... Coke..._ her mouth almost started to water at thinking about those names. She remembered the fizz that tickled her tongue and throat, and the sickeningly sweet taste that she somehow adored. She realized she likely wouldn't taste another one again for a long, long time.

Shaking the memories out of her mind, Wynn spotted some large tufts of grass that she thought might be useful. Ripping the long blades from the ground, Wynn noticed that the wind was getting cooler and it was getting even darker. She realized that she likely had less than an hour left before night consumed the field.

After she finally collected all the grass from the area, and unsuccessfully tried to make a lean-to shelter, Wynn found herself in a bit of a dilemma. It was almost completely dark. Memories of the book she had read about survival came back to her mind, and she tried making a torch with the sticks she had collected. Suddenly, it became completely dark, and Wynn felt even more uneasy.

She was alone and in the dark.

Alone in the dark, other than a hissing noise.

A hissing noise that got louder and louder.

Something else became apparent that replaced all the unease with a drowning, sickening terror.

She was in the dark.

And she wasn't alone.

Hastily, she tied the grass to some sticks in a successful attempt at making a torch. Miraculously, it lit by itself without any form of a starter.  
  


"Maxwell's work," she muttered.

Using the torch as a guide through the darkness, Wynn found her way to a tree and sat down for a nap. She couldn't sleep. Something about her body refused to allow her. So, instead, she held her torch and looked up at the night sky.

The stars were strikingly beautiful tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the quality dropped here a bit! I ran out of stuff to write at the very end that wouldn't fit better for a later chapter, but I also couldn't end too abruptly!


	3. Insanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey just a heads up there's a bit of a gore-y description near the end

Continuing her journey, Wynn searched for a sign-any sign of some kind of civilization. She hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would find someone. Anyone at all. But not Maxwell. "Anyone but that disgusting monster of a man," she muttered. She continued through the fields with the lingering sense of isolation scratching at her feet.

Although the occasional butterfly did help her mood, Wynn still felt lonelier and lonelier. She even thought she began to see... things. Things that darted in and out of her vision. Things that didn't look like anything she'd seen before. Some might say they were unsettling, but Wynn saw them as oddly comforting. Like some kind of companion, almost. Some kind of life in the stillness of the wild. 

Still, they didn't give her too much relief over the fact she wouldn't ever see another human being again. The idea terrified her; no more gossip, no more exchanging stories, nothing. She would be alone; forever.

Wynn shook off whatever was crawling into her mind and tried to enjoy this new, beautiful, autumn-themed scenery. _Look,_ she thought as she tried to drown out the whispers. _It's a pretty mushroom._ _Just like the ones growing in the yard._

The yard.

The yard, the one that belonged to the very house the was abandoned in.

The yard, the very same one she used to play in with her mother. The one who had held her and hugged her and told her she was loved for ten whole years.

The very same mother who then met her stepfather, became an alcoholic, and abandoned her in a tiny, worn-down shack.

As time went on, the thoughts clawed at the edges of her mind and tore holes into her steadily draining sanity. The muted natural colors of the trees got brighter and brighter, almost too bright for her to handle. Whispers and screams echoed in her ears. 

_No, no, no-!_ Wynn started to claw at her unkempt hair, pulling and tugging at the dark purple tufts. Something inside her was shrieking for her to _run._ Her knees buckled and she collapsed as she fought the urge to scream bloody murder. Crazed mumbles flew out of her mouth, and darkness began to cloud her vision. She couldn't move; no matter how hard she tried, it felt like chains had tethered her to the ground. Even her shadowy "companions" seemed to be laughing at her, until she realized she was laughing too. Perhaps they were laughing with her? 

Delirious, Wynn looked up and suddenly felt a bit calmer at the sight of a shadow creature that happened to be right in front of her. It vaguely resembled a bird of some sort with sharp teeth that lined the inside of its beak. It looked back with what she interpreted as a curious look; to her, it almost said, "Hello. Who are you?" Wynn found it beautifully fascinating. 

Her vision was so cloudy and she was so distracted that she hadn't even realized that night was just around the corner.

_Snap out of it!_ Something in her head shouted at her. She looked up long enough to notice her grim situation. Wynn panicked and fumbled around for a stick she could use to make a torch. Nothing. There was nothing she could feel around for in the darkness. Tears began to sting her eyes, but she fought the urge to begin sobbing. "No!" She scolded herself. "No, no, no! Stop it. You're not a baby. It's just the dark, you'll be fine! Stop acting like a little-"

_Hisssssssss..._

It was back.

Petrified, Wynn frantically rummaged around in the darkness, hoping to find something to ignite to ward off the creature. She felt the trunk of a thin, brittle tree, and reached up to attempt to snap off a branch when...

 _  
Crunch._

Wynn stumbled back and screamed in agony as searing pain pulsed in her left shoulder. She could hear the din of her heartbeat and feel hot blood pouring down her arm. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she kept searching until her fingers grasped something long and thin on the forest floor and she sighed in slight relief. It was a small bundle of sticks. After she'd quickly tied them to some leftover blades of grass, the improvised taper's tip burst into flames just as she began to hear the night monster's second hiss. Relieved, Wynn looked over at her shoulder to see to the damage and shrieked; bone was sticking out, blood had stained her lavender-colored sleeve and was dripping down her arm, and there was a sizable laceration in her shoulder where the creature had bit her.

That finally did it. The wounded girl broke down into large, heavy, sobs. She wished her mother was there to give her injury a bandage and a kiss to quell her pain, then give her a hug and tell her she was going to be fine. She wanted her mother, but she didn't want the alcoholic who called her a fat, lazy cow, threw lit matches and cigarettes at her, and spat chewing tobacco at her before abandoning her. She wanted the woman who had fed her, hugged her, and cared for her for eight years. She wanted that woman back.

Wynn began to feel dizzy from blood loss; her head spun and she was seeing stars. The flickering light of the firebrand became blurry and she passed out.


	4. Brightness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG EVEN THOUGH ITS SO SHORT AJSKKS WRITERS BLOCK S U C K S A S S

It was bright. Too bright. _Excruciatingly_ bright.

Wynn shut her eyes at the blinding light, but it pierced through her eyelids and stung her retinas anyway. She turned her head and tried to look at the greener scenery that surrounded her, feeling disgusted when the reek of death and metal filled her nose.

Why wasn't she in her warm house, in her comfy room, in her soft, cotton nightgown? She nearly puked when she sat up and realized she had been laying in a drying pool of blood. Her head _hurt._ She'd had migraines before, from reading in the dark and staying up late with friends, but none were like _this._

"Must be what Mom feels every Saturday morning," Wynn weakly chuckled to herself, then immediately clutched her head and doubled over in pain. She rubbed her throbbing temples are tried to search her mind for bits and pieces of what had happened after Maxwell had brought her here. Oh, yes, that's right. Maxwell had brought her here. Then she went gathering supplies; there was the turkey and the frogs; the third—no, second night, she was caught without a light source and... and then, what had happened? She remembered that she felt like she was going insane, yes, and the colors became overly saturated; creatures of the darkness; The darkness, yes. The darkness had bit her. Or, rather, something _in_ the darkness. 

  
_Irkkkkkk._

Wynn's stomach eagerly growled, accompanied with painful twisting and turning. It felt as though it was eating her from the inside out. _I need food,_ she thought desperately. _I need to chew something... I need... berries!_ Wynn remembered the berries in her blood-stained backpack and pulled them out, shoving each and every one of them in her mouth. Some were squashed and some were covered in dirt, but none of that mattered. All she cared about right then and there was filling the gaping hole inside her. Immediately she felt a little better, and swore she thought she saw her injuries get a little lighter.

Unsatisfied but alive, it was time to continue on her journey. Journey to where, she didn't have a clue. Maybe it was a journey to answers, maybe it was a journey to Maxwell, maybe it was a journey home. Hopefully, it was a journey back to civilization.

She stood up and promptly yelped at the shocking jolt of pain that shot through her arm. It felt like someone took a knife and stabbed it in her shoulder, then splashed a bucket of salt and scalding lemon juice all over the cut. In other words, it _hurt_. She clutched her forearm and staggered her way to a nearby birch tree, leaning against it like a stationary crutch.

Looking up, Wynn sighed in two-parts despair and one-part annoyance. It was already past midday and she'd used up almost all her materials. All she had left was a stick, a few carrots and two turkey drumsticks which began to smell foul. Fortunately, cooking them would solve that problem, but after that, she'd start at square one. She missed biking to the grocer's and picking up a packaged dinner, or calling the cute delivery boy to carry out her lunch. It was so easy back then. Ah, well.

"I had an axe," she remembered. "I must have dropped when that thing attacked me... I have to find it, I can't stay helpless forever." She took a step, forgetting about her arm which left the crutch of a tree and dangled by her side, pulsing with pain. She screamed obscenities and stumbled, again, back to the forest floor. Clutching her lacerated arm, Wynn stood, forcing her tired, aching legs to push her up and off the warm-toned ground. The once deep red pool of her blood was now dark, black, and dried up, stuck to the orange grasses. Flies buzzed around the scene, attracted to the horrid smell. Among the carnage sat the axe, simple sticks and flint tied together with a bit of grass. Not fancy, but did the job.   
  


With her good hand, Wynn hoisted the axe up and over her shoulder and hoped to gather enough firewood and tinder to last her the night, protecting her against the Grue that hunted in the night.

She managed to take on four large trees and about a dozen tufts of grass before night fell. Once again, a starter was not needed as the moment she laid a few cut blades onto some logs she had set, the entire setup burst into flames just as darkness set over the landscape. She took the opportunity to pluck off the feathers off the drumsticks that were beginning to go stale and roast them over the hot fire. Still, she watched the shadows with caution, wary of the monster that had preyed on her just the night before until the sun rose. She was not about to let the creature foul her hopes to get out of the wretched place.

She looked up at the moon passing over her head, bright and beautiful, though it was only half full; she couldn't wait to see its true beauty in a few days. But as she gazed up at the sky, she noticed a strange noise, coming from far away. It was a din that refused to cease. The more she listened, the more it sounded like... barking. Growling. _Hounds._


	5. Update; tl;dr, I'm discontinuing this old mess

Okay.

For those of you still here, not many, I'm sure, as there weren't a lot of people reading this to begin with, I'd suggest you find another fic to read.

  
I'm sorry.

I had no idea where I was going with this. I did what any long time fanfic writer will tell you _not_ to do, and made things up along the way. I did have the vague concept of having this go into adventure mode and then tying things up with Charlie sending Wynn into DST, but everything in between would have been a complete mess. (Besides, I hadn't even played adventure mode before I started writing this, and completely left out the Things, so I would have had to start over, anyway.)

I thought it would have been easy to just say, "Forget it, I'm never going to finish this", leave it at that, and disappear, but I have felt the unsatisfying feeling of when I open up a fanfiction I like, only to see it hasn't been updated for longer than nearly half a year when it had been going at a steady chapter per month, with not announcement of hiatus in sight. I didn't want to put that on anyone else who stumbled upon this, and that's why I'm making this goodbye letter.  
  


Maybe I'll pick this up again, dust it off, make an _actual plan_ this time around, but for now, it's going to be sitting on my shelf of archives and self-inserts that are just for me to read because I couldn't find anything better [;)]. Whether it will stay there until the end of time, I don't know.   
  


It's been fun trying to develop this character; emphasis on "trying". Personality design is not my forte. I'm more of a "visual" person.

  
I giveth thou good luck; well written fics, in-character characters and good grammar come your way.

Goodbye.


End file.
